


got me acting like a foo

by pantsoffdanceoff



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9686252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantsoffdanceoff/pseuds/pantsoffdanceoff
Summary: 5 times Nursey tried to help Dex with his midterms + 1 time Dex returned the favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beltenebra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltenebra/gifts).



=========================  
_i += 1;_  
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Wheel, v.

  1. What your teammate will yell when you’re three feet behind the play, and he needs you twenty feet ahead of it. Or in plain English, move your f#!%ing feet.
  2. To skate fast with the puck on your stick, e.g. _He’s a puck-moving defenseman, who loves to wheel the puck out himself or make the_ _first pass out of the zone._
  3. The act of making it with the ladies. Usually comes with being a beaut on the ice. You know, sick flow, silky mitts, and of course, the wheels to back it up ( _see: wheel, n._ ).



 

Nursey scoffs, putting down his phone. “Man, those are some terrible definitions.”

The library is packed with students cramming for their midterms, so Dex can’t raise his voice for fear of getting shanked with a Bic pen. He’s tempted though. Dex grits his teeth and says, “I wasn’t asking for writing tips, Nursey. Are the headers and menus in the right spots?”

“Who cares where the headers are?” says Nursey, half-heartedly swiping through the page.

“ _I_ care where the headers are,” says Dex, “Chowder spent three days fixing the--”

“SHH,” hiss the three tables surrounding them.

Dex takes a deep breath, and lowers his voice, “Look, if you’re not going to test it for me, at least do it for Chowder. You’re the only one with an iPhone, and we need this to work on all platforms to pass this fucking midterm.”

Nursey puts down his phone...which promptly chimes. He glances down. “Look, it’s been real, but I gotta jet. My poetry prof’s a real stickler for attendance.”

Dex stares at the ceiling and wonders if yelling in frustration is worth death by impalement.

 

=========================  
_printf ("%i" , factorial(2));_  
=========================

Three days later, Nursey drops his messenger bag and himself into the seat next to Dex, and flips open the most pretentious notebook Dex has ever seen in his life.

“Is that fucking leather-bound?” says Dex, as Nursey elbows him to make more room. Dex elbows him back.

“No, it’s cruelty-free,” says Nursey, like it’s an answer that makes sense.

“I’ll pass that message on to the Yale winger you elbowed in the throat last week,” says Dex, “Or are you saying Bulldogs don’t even rate as animals?”

“I’m saying that it’s made out of recycled rubber tires,” says Nursey, rolling his eyes. “But sure, if you want to fail that midterm, keep right on talking.”

Dex sticks his spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth and swallows, deliberately slow.

If Nursey rolls his eyes any harder, they’re going to fall out of his head. He hands over the notebook, flipped to a page filled with his neat block print. “I clicked through every single link in your stupid dictionary.”

There are a lot of notes. “Wait, the scrollbar still doesn’t work? I thought we--” There’s a sinking feeling in Dex’s stomach. “What version do you have?”

“Version?” says Nursey. He taps open the app. “How am I supposed to know which version I have?”

0.2.4, reads the bottom of the screen. Dex groans. “We fixed that problem yesterday. We’re testing two versions ahead.”

Nursey’s face flushes as he tries to take the notebook back from Dex. “Well, if you didn’t want help, you could have just--”

“Whoa, whoa,” says Dex, “I didn’t say they were bad notes. Let me take this page and we’ll figure out what still needs fixing.”

He takes a hold of the page and rips. “What exactly is this made of, recycled unicorn hair?” says Dex. “Goddamn.”

“Pixie hair,” says Nursey. For some reason, he looks less mad. “Recycled pixie hair, get it right.”

 

=========================  
_var a = math.matrix([3, ‘oh hell no’]);_  
=========================

“Bro, you look terrible,” says Nursey, as they’re lacing up for the game.

“And your face could blind the...blind,” says Dex. Wait.

Nursey might have a point. It hadn’t been worth it to climb into bed after he’d fixed the scrollbar (and cleaned up the objects list, and figured out the foreign key checks problem), so he’d faffed around while the sun rose. The most interesting thing in arm’s reach had been the back of Nursey’s notes--still his handwriting but sloppier, with strikeouts and arrows pointing everywhere, about some dead dude named after a Habs player. “Who the hell rhymes glow with brow?”

Nursey’s eyebrows rise. “Are you sure you can pl--”

“Listen up, suckers,” says Shitty, planting a skate on his bench, “And lollipops, and other similar sweets because we don’t discriminate against confections around here. What we do discriminate against, however, is the color red.”

“We do?” says Chowder.

“We sure do,” says Shitty, “Especially when it’s that godawful color Cornell puts on their jersey.”

Ransom and Holster boo. Nursey hands Dex a sheaf of fancy paper and says, “What would you rhyme it with?”

“And that stupid Big Red slogan they have,” says Shitty, as Dex unfolds the top sheet. It’s got--it’s got rewritten definitions.

“Bro, what the shit,” says Dex, “And there’s your rhyme. Bro. Show.” He scratches his ear, “Flow.”

Ransom and Holster boo louder.

“And that awful, sacrilegious chant they do,” shouts Shitty to be heard, “What’s the best red?”

Nursey looks like he’s about to reply, but the upperclassmen on either side of them shout, “Samwell red!”

Shitty cups a hand to his ear. “I said, what’s the best red?”

“Samwell red!”

Jack nods stiffly. He’s already got his game face on. “Let’s roll out, boys.”

\---

They lose. And what’s worse, Bitty gets boarded hard along the half-boards while all four officials have their backs turned, apparently. Dex sees red. Chowder has to pull him off the Cornell defenseman, sitting on him until Dex stops trying to get himself a game disqualification.

Dex gets even later though, clipping #4 behind the net. It’s even worth the cross-check to the ribs he gets in retaliation.

Even the pain every time he inhales isn’t enough to keep Dex awake the next day, though, and he starts drifting off not five minutes into Dr. Baz’s lecture on Python. He’s still got that stupid poem stuck in his head, something about some chick walking around at night, looking to break an ankle or something. He’s done some googling, but he still doesn’t see why she would want to go out with some guy like--

“Mr. Poindexter,” says Dr. Baz, and Dex nearly overbalances trying to right himself in his chair. Ow. “Can you tell me what the third example is?”

“Um,” says Dex, trying to remember what the lecture was on. Something about lookup tables. “Well, you can construct a dictionary with dictionary literals, uh, lists of key value pairs, um, and, uh,”

Chowder tries to mouth something at him.

“And, uh,” says Dex, feeling his ears go hot.

“And parallel lists,” finishes Dr. Baz. “Now the method is more often used in Java, but we can use it in examples of--”

“Rhyming dictionaries,” blurts Dex, flushing again as half the class cranes their necks to look at him.

“Exactly,” says Dr. Baz, brightly, as Dex pretends he’s not hunting for a pen. “Very good. Now, we could write--”

Dex tunes him out, furiously scribbling down the framework for a rhyming dictionary. Oh, he’s going to show Nursey.

 

=========================  
_if (isNaN(value)) {return NaN}; Math.floor (2.14*2);_  
=========================

“You sure you gave me the right version, this time?” says Nursey.

Dex grits his teeth. “Yes, _Derek_ , I triple checked.”

Nursey squints at his phone.

“Version 0.3.2,” says Dex, loudly enough that a couple people in the quad turn and stare, “Is exactly what you should have.”

“Cool,” says Nursey, stuffing a month of work in his stupid hipster jeans.

“Cool?” says Dex, “That’s all you have to say about it? Cool?”

Well, I haven’t looked at it yet, bro,” says Nursey, pulling his phone back out, “On the other hand, wow, thanks for using my work. _Wheel, verb: to behave in the manner of Derek Nurse (see: tool, noun)_.”

“You’re welcome,” says Dex, feeling his hackles rise even more. He’s got half a mind to shove his other dictionary at Nursey too, but it still refuses to pull up actual rhymes. Soundex is bending his mind in ways he didn’t know it could go, which is probably why he lets Nursey walk halfway across the quad before he thinks to yell, “And I need it by tomorrow, so don’t take three days this time!”

More stares. Dex grumbles and pulls his beanie lower.

\---

“We’re going to die,” says Chowder. He’s got an arm thrown over his eyes. “We’re going to fail the midterm, and then Dr. Baz is going to email our parents, and then they’re going to throw us in the Pond, and then we’re all going to die of hypothermia.”

“It’s just an alignment issue,” says Dex. “We’ve already fixed all the hard parts. We just need to go into the CSS and--” He blinks at the Notepad++ window. “Didn’t we get rid of all the null references in this section?”

“We’re going to die,” wails Chowder.

“Hold up, let me just grab our notes,” says Dex. He grabs the closest sheet of paper, which happens to be a printout of the Pronouncing library’s documentation, which just reminds him _again_ that Nursey hasn’t given them shit and they might have to do this all over again when they get his error log.

Chowder keeps going. “And I canceled Valentine’s dinner with Caitlin, and she sounded all understanding on the phone but if I cancel again tomorrow--”

“Wait, when’s Valentine’s Day?” says Dex.

Chowder stares. He knee walks through the notes practically carpeting his floor and hugs Dex for no reason. “It’s okay, Dex. If we’re all going to die anyway, I’m happy to be here with you tonight. You can be my Valentine.”

“It’s today?” says Dex. No wonder lunch was so...pink.

“Yeah,” says Chowder, then cocks his head to the side. “Well, I’d still rather be with my girlfriend, because she’s nice and smart and talented and pretty, but you shouldn't have to die without a Valentine.”

There's a point that's a bit more important here. “You think that’s why Nursey bailed on us?” says Dex, grinding his teeth. “Too busy with his little lady to deal with us little people?”

“Nursey’s not--”

Dex crumples up the documentation in his hands. “I should give him a piece of my mind.”

He stomps across the quad with Chowder trailing worriedly behind, to pound on Nursey’s door. There’s the sound of Drake coming through the door. Some random bro opens the door. Dex can see a fucking party going on behind him. Broski says, “What up?”

“Is Nursey there?” says Dex, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

“Yo, Der,” calls Brofessor, without turning his head, “Angry Prince Harry wants to talk to you.”

“Hey,” says Nursey, appearing in the doorway and hip checking Brotard out of the way, “How’s it hanging?”

“Low and to the left, how do you think?” snaps Dex. “So glad you made time to finish those notes instead of fratting it up.”

A wrinkle appears in Nursey’s forehead. Before he can say anything though, Chowder says, “Happy birthday, Nursey. Sorry for not getting you anything.” He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the carpeting. “And for canceling. ‘Swawesome party, though.”

“Don’t sweat it, bro,” says Nursey, “And you already got me a card. I really appreciate it.”

Dex feels like he went overboard a lobster boat. _Happy birthday_ , reads the handmade banner he can see behind Nursey’s ear. “I, uh--” He doesn’t know which hurts more, that Nursey apparently told everyone but his d-partner about his birthday, or that Nursey invited Chowder but not him to the party. “Never mind. Happy birthday.”

The biting February air feels good on his cheeks. The ice crackles under his feet. He can feel Chowder hovering, but thankfully, he's quiet. The sounds of a late-night jogger grows closer, and Dex steps aside automatically to let them pass.

“Wait up, bro,” says Nursey, the words puffing out like little clouds. He shoves a folded-up square of paper at Dex. “I haven’t cleaned it up yet, but it’s all there. Good luck with your project, man.”

Dex unfolds it under the closest streetlight. It’s Nursey’s other handwriting, the messy scrawl climbing up the sides of the margins. A couple of the sentences are reworded two or three times. Dex looks up, but Nursey’s already disappearing into the square of light emanating from his dorm’s front door.

 

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_friend = /(wo)?man/g; friend.compile(5);_  
=========================

“Do you think we should change the--”

“No,” says Dex, glaring at Chowder, who just turns the saddest puppy eyes on Dex that he has ever seen, including on an actual puppy.

“But I just wanted to check the--”

“No,” repeats Dex, firmly. “It’s done. It’s in Dr. Baz’s hands. No one’s double-checking or changing anything.”

“Okay,” says Chowder, and nearly droops into his mashed potatoes. A body sags into the seat next to him. It’s Nursey.

“Bro, you look like shit,” says Dex.

“Wow, thanks for that ego boost,” says Nursey. His five o’clock shadow has a five o’clock shadow. “Hey, I’ve got a midterm next week, so if you need more beta-testing for your project--”

“We’re done,” says Dex, before Chowder can start panicking again.

Nursey’s fork freezes in the air. “We're what?”

“Yeah, we turned the project in,” says Dex. The Commons lights are glaringly bright. “Why?”

Chowder whimpers, “I _said_ we should have double-checked the--”

Nursey blinks a few times and says, “Oh. Uh, I mean, it’s probably fine. It’s just that when I clicked the ‘Contact Us’ link at the bottom, I can’t get back into the dictionary.”

The Commons cafeteria experiences one of those rare moments when everyone’s conversation comes to a lull and a hush descends, just as Chowder turns on the waterworks.

Which is probably how Dex finds himself dressed in all black later that evening, shivering by the Dumpsters behind the comp sci building. Chowder is perched on Nursey’s shoulders, fiddling with the windowsill.

“Bro, you sure that’s your prof’s window?” says Nursey, strained.

“The better question is, you sure you even need to be here?” says Dex, “Don’t you have a midterm coming up?”

“Yeah, well,” says Nursey, just as the window slides open.

Chowder gives a tiny fistpump and wriggles himself through the opening. “Okay, Dex first. You’re lighter.”

Dex takes hold of both of Chowder’s hands and tries to pull himself up, and nearly hauls Chowder out the window instead. Flailing, he nearly takes out Nursey too as he goes down.

“Careful,” says Nursey, pulling Dex back upright.

“Goalie muscles,” says Chowder, sadly. He pokes at his bicep. “Maybe I should unlock the door for you guys.”

“You do that,” says Dex, his heart still hammering. He clears his throat, “So, uh--”

A noise startles them, followed by a sweeping arc of flashlight. Dex hisses, “Oh shit, hide. We can’t be caught--”

But instead of pushing him into the bushes, Nursey yanks Dex in so hard their shoes knock against each other. Warm lips press against his own, stubble scraping against his chin. Dex gasps. Nursey smells dizzyingly of cedarwood and musk, and his hand cups the back of Dex’s neck, scratching lightly at the fine hairs there, making Dex shiver.

Someone clears their throat. “Gentlemen,” says the security guard, apologetically, “You can’t be here.”

“Sorry,” says Nursey, sounding surprisingly breathless, “We didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

She tilts her head towards the Commons and moves on.

Dex says, “That was some world-class acting. You do that with all the boys?”

“Sorry,” says Nursey again. He takes a step back. “Won’t happen again. I know you hate me and--”

“ _Hate_ you?” sputters Dex.

Nursey freezes. In the dim light, Dex can only make out the whites of Nursey’s eyes as they widen.

It stings, more than Dex expected it to. He knows what the boys in the locker room think of him, even if they don't say it out loud. But he's always held out hope that Nursey would be able to see him for who is he, just as he's always able to sauce the puck onto Dex's stick, right on his tape.

“I never--” Dex licks his lips. “I never hated you. But I was never going to be good enough for you to notice, and that, _that_ I--”

Nursey’s lips crush against Dex’s again, as hard as the last kiss was sweet. Dex gasps as Nursey shoves him against the wall, his tongue demanding entrance into Dex’s mouth. Dex opens up for him, squirming in the suddenly-too-hot air--

“Not notice you?” says Nursey between kisses, “I'll show you not noticing--”

“Uh, guys?” says Chowder.

He’s standing in the doorway, the door propped open. “Um, I don’t want to interrupt, but--”

“Yeah, okay,” says Derek, taking a step back. “We’re coming.” Dex swallows, fumbling the flash drive in his pocket.

Nursey huffs a laugh in Dex’s ear, whispering, “Not yet we’re not.”

It takes all three of them ten minutes to find the flash drive in the snow.

 

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_+1 felt but for one from whom he never ranged_  
=========================

“Um,” says Nursey, in a tone a voice usually reserved for talking to Chowder after Sharks losses. “Look, this is really nice of you but...”

He trails off, refreshing the app. The screen reads:

 _Roses are red,_  
_Violets are cool,_  
_I can rhyme better_  
_Than Lord Byron the tool._

“Yeah, see, you can also type anything you want in the first two lines,” says Dex, demonstrating, “And then the program figures out a rhyme for the end. So, ‘Roses are red, hockey is sick, Lord Byron is free, to suck my--’”

Nursey shuts him up with a kiss. “Thank you,” he says, gravely, “I really appreciate your gift.”

He can feel Nursey smiling against his lips, the fucker. Dex steals another kiss and says, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Pretty enough to kick you out so I can actually study?” says Nursey.

Dex squawks in outrage. “Do that, and see if I ever pass to you again.”

“That would imply you ever passed to me in the first place,” says Nursey, “Mr. Puck-Moving Defenseman.”

“If I wanted to wait for you to make a stretch pass, I might as well start looking into Ph.D. programs at Samwell,” says Dex.

“Guys, guys,” says Chowder, appearing at their study table with snacks in hand, “Why are you fighting again?”

Nursey throws his head back and laughs, earning them dirty looks from the tables around them. Dex just squeezes his hand under the table.

**Author's Note:**

> The two Byron poems referenced are [She Walks in Beauty](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/43844) and [The Corsair](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-corsair/).
> 
> Pretty sure no CS 100-level class is taught like this, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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